


infectuous

by writingfromthevoid (luciferxrising)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Creative use of magic, F/F, Hawke is a little drunk but nothing happens without consent, Magical Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 07:18:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8135146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luciferxrising/pseuds/writingfromthevoid
Summary: The constant giggling isn’t helping much – Marian’s laughter is infectious on any day, but when she’s hammered, she giggles, and it’s adorable and more than a little distracting.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cinnamongirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinnamongirl/gifts).



> Thanks to my lovely [beta](http://taurusgentleman.tumblr.com), you're a doll!

It’s dark out in Hightown, the only light to guide their path that of the various lanterns scattered throughout, and the faint glow of Merrill’s staff that she holds in one hand. The other arm is busy trying to keep Hawke steady as they walk towards the estate, a task more arduous than the elf had initially thought it would be. The constant giggling isn’t helping much – Marian’s laughter is infectious on any day, but when she’s hammered, she _giggles_ , and it’s adorable and more than a little distracting.

            “I don’t think that last round was a good idea, lethallan,” Merrill says, a smile hidden in her voice even when her eyes are filled with worry. “What was _in_ that, anyway?”

            A couple vague hand gestures and a mumble of “Stuff,” followed by another shrill giggle is her answer, and oh, but they must be close now, right? She recognises this part of town, though it is more difficult in the dark – is that the alley where they stopped a bunch of raiders last night?

            Ah, and there is the Hawke estate. Getting the door open is a bit of a challenge, but Merrill is nothing if not nimble, and she only almost lets Marian fall once, so she shall count this as a success. Bodahn greets them, amiably as always despite the late hour – she doesn’t think she’s ever seen the dwarf sleep! It’s kind of scary, but the man and his son are so kind, she can’t help but smile. The trek upstairs is, again, slow and arduous, as expected.

            But they make it to the bedroom, _finally_. Merrill is _so_ ready to sleep. Batting Hawke’s roaming hands away, she undresses the woman and tucks her into bed, before shedding her own clothing, folding it neatly over the chair at the desk, and sliding in beside her girlfriend.

            Her murmur of “Goodnight, lethallan,” is muffled by a mouth descending on her own, and, sighing, she allows the sloppy kiss for a moment before gently pulling away. “Bedtime,” she admonishes. Marian pouts. She stares. And her gaze softens. Oh, _ugh_ , how can _anyone_ say no to that look. “Oh, very well.”

            She does steer the kisses from sloppy and heated to soft and loving, with one hand in Marian’s hair and the other resting lightly on her cheek, keeping her at bay. She normally lets her girlfriend take the lead, but a drunk Hawke is a Hawke she needs to care for.

            Eventually Merrill ends up on top of her, pressing soft kisses to the skin of her neck. Marian is giggling softly still, but she doesn’t get why until she looks up and sees that mischievous twinkle in her eyes that tells her she has an idea. Usually, not a good sign.

            “Y’know,” Hawke mumbles, still a little slurred, but understandable, at least. “You look _really_ good on top of me. Like, really, _really_ good.” Oh. Oh dear. Merrill’s face heats up a little, and she pulls her lower lip between her teeth.

            “Do I?” Oh, she really, _really_ shouldn’t be encouraging this. Fortunately, another kiss comes before an answer, giving her a moment longer to gather her thoughts.

            “You really do,” Marian gasps, breathless, rutting up against her, and, okay, she should perhaps put a stop to this right now, before – “I think we should switch it up for a while. See how you take control over me. You want it too, right?” Another jerk of her hips upward, and yes, _yes_ , she does want this, it’s _exhilarating_ , but…

            “Hawke, you’re drunk,” Merrill says, voice as stern as she can muster. She disentangles herself from the taller woman, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. “This is not the time. Go to sleep, ma vhenan.” To support her statement, she turns, pressing her back against the woman’s side so she doesn’t have to deal with the inevitable pout-and-puppy-eyes look Marian is so skilled at.

            It takes a bit of coaxing and a lot of ignoring, but she does eventually get Hawke to give in, and within thirty minutes, she is pressed against Merrill’s side, snoring softly from her open mouth.

            As for Merrill, she stays awake for a while longer, planning. She falls asleep with a knowing little smile on her face.

 

The next morning brings headaches and a grumpy Marian, but there is no mention of last night’s… events, and so Merrill stays quiet about it, too. Following a lead from Varric, they set out with Fenris and Isabela to the Wounded Coast, finding the remainders of a band of smugglers and destroying their hideout completely. It takes up the good part of their day, and by dusk they’re all tired and ready to head home, after a quick visit to Anders’ clinic to set Isabela’s broken and bloody nose.

            Marian is, as expected, still quite energetic, and pulls Merrill along to the bedroom after a nice and quiet dinner, where they tumble to the bed, kissing and laughing. Clothing is slowly removed in between long make-out sessions, landing haphazardly on the floor – Merrill reasons she can fold it neatly, afterwards.

            Hawke is placing loving kisses down her chest when she makes her move. Her hands slowly slide up the woman’s arms in a gentle caress before her fingers dig down, grab her wrists and, with a bit of a push, turn them around, pinning Marian’s arms down to the bed with a sly smirk. Or, at least, she hopes. It might look a little more nervous than planned. But judging by Marian’s wide-eyed expression, she’s fully on board with this.

            “Do you mind?” Merrill asks sweetly, pressing her hips down for good measure. Hawke gasps, blood rising to her cheeks.

            “Oh baby,” she says softly, licking her lips in anticipation (oh, and Merrill is so jealous of how effortless it looks, how sexy she is even when caught off-guard) and sinking back into the bed a little. “You could do anything to me right now and I wouldn’t mind one bit.” It makes Merrill giggle a bit, losing her serious composure, and lifts her hands from Marian’s wrists, using them to cup her face and kiss her deeply instead. When she pulls back, she’s just in time to see Marian make a move to raise her arms, to touch her in turn –

And find resistance, her arms still pinned down to the bed. A glimmer of green energy in the shape of vines is keeping them down, and when it dawns on her, her eyes grow even wider, looking up at Merrill with a mixture of confusion and awe in her eyes.

            “You planned this,” she breathes, voice tinted with arousal already. “You devious little minx, you totally planned this right from the start.”

            “You’re very chatty when you’re drunk,” is Merrill’s smirking reply, running her fingers through Marian’s hair and tightening them a little, giving a little bit of pressure whenever Marian moves her head. It makes her give out the most delightful little gasp, one that sends a spark of warmth blooming in her stomach run straight down to her nether-regions. She collects herself, then, schooling her expression into something a little more serious. “Do you want this, lethallan?” she asks, watching Marian’s face carefully. “You were a little out of it yesterday, so I just need to be sure…”

            “Yes,” Marian gasps, pulling up against the magic restraints. “Yes, I do, please –”

            Merrill nods, slowly, and then smirks again. “Very well. Just say the word if you need me to stop.” And then she draws one hand, very slowly, from Marian’s cheek, down her throat, to her chest. A bit of concentration is all it takes to make her fingers cool, and then frost over just a little, and the cold touch makes Hawke squirm beneath her, letting out soft gasps and sounds of encouragement. Merrill circles one nipple with a freezing finger, feeling it perk up and harden under her ministrations, then switches to the other, until Marian’s chest is heaving with effort to keep still.

            They’ve used magic during sex before, so this is nothing new, but it’s nice to not be on the receiving end for once. She takes great pleasure looking down on Marian with every move she makes, drawing her hand slowly down, down, before moving up again, giggling at the groan that escapes her. She dispels the grasp of winter – shakes her hand, little snowflakes tickling Marian’s stomach and making her laugh and squirm even more – then follows the chilled path she made with her mouth and tongue, the sensation of warm breath and lips making Hawke shiver in pleasure.

            “Still doing alright, lethallan?” she asks after licking up a stripe from her navel to her sternum. Her answer is an enthusiastic nod and a gasped “Yes,” which is all the confirmation she needs. She kneels up, one leg on either side of Marian’s waist, and focuses again, both hands slightly out and in front of her. This time, instead of frosting over, they begin to spark ever so slightly, and she sees Hawke’s eyes widen, lips part and turn up into a smile. Little shocks of static energy emit from her fingertips when she lowers them, touching lightly upon her collarbones.

            Even the slightest touch makes her jump, and Merrill draws her hands back, before placing them down again, slightly lower this time. Marian shakes and bucks under her, but she’s not making any movement to show she’s uncomfortable, so Merrill continues, letting electricity crackle around her hands as she touches and strokes, the caresses a soft counterpart to the harsh stings of energy.

            Eventually Marian gasps out “Enough, enough,” and she stops immediately, closing her hands into fists to quell the magic.

            “Are you alright?” she asks, a slight hint of worry in her voice, and to her relief, Marian nods, eyes closed.

            “Give me – give me a minute,” she mumbles. Merrill sits back, hands slightly raised, not touching. After a while, Marian slowly opens her eyes again, looking up at Merrill, and nods, and Merrill smiles and leans down to kiss her.

            “You’re doing wonderful. I’ve got you,” she murmurs soothingly. Her hands very lightly skim across her shoulders, then her chest, testing out the waters. No magic, just a very light touch, that makes Marian jump slightly, but then relax against the bed.

            Merrill bends down and kisses her again, a deep, loving kiss, that ends with them both panting as they break away. She doesn’t stop there however, kissing down her jaw, down her neck, her chest, veering from the middle briefly to lick across a nipple before continuing her track down. Marian’s skin is flushed and hot, but goosebumps still rise when she kisses down her stomach, and then, even lower.

            Coarse pubic hair scratches her chin as she descends down, light kisses against the pubic bone first, before she finally reaches her destination and her tongue snakes out to tease at her clit. Marian’s body jerks up, making a move to free her arms, finding herself bound once again. A soft cry escapes from her throat, one that quickly melts into a low moan as Merrill starts lavishing her clitoris and vaginal folds with her lips and tongue and, occasionally, her teeth, a daring move that rewards her with the sweetest little keening noise.

            Marian is wound up already, and it doesn’t take long for her to fall apart. She’s lost when Merrill inserts one, then two fingers into her, stroking along her inner walls as her tongue massages her clit, and when she comes, she does so with a cry of her name, followed by a plethora of “Please”es and “Yes”es that is absolute music to Merrill’s ears.

            The magic holding her bound dissipates as Merrill drapes herself along Marian’s body, nuzzling at her neck with a content, almost proud smile, and the usually so talkative Hawke has no words but a quiet “Thank you,” as they both drift off into a slumber.


End file.
